Why Am I a Counselor From Claire Manley

By Claire Manley

I was raised in Evanston in the 1990s on a steady musical diet of NSYNC, the Backstreet Boys, and Britney Spears. I was lucky to grow up on a block full of children my age, and play outside most of my childhood under the canopies of trees that lined our street.

My parents were in a band together and would play bluegrass tunes on our front lawn with their friends. Every so often, us kids would wander over and listen. It was peaceful, serene, and full of music.

Despite this picturesque upbringing, I struggled both socially and emotionally. I was shy and deeply empathetic, which caused early introspection and a tendency to let my internal, imaginary worlds override reality.

But it was my deep empathy that drove a lot of what I felt around me, and it became both a blessing and a curse.

For example, when watching “Once Upon a Forest,” a children’s movie about woodland creatures, I was flooded with empathy far beyond my capacity to cope during a scene where a mole named Edgar was trapped in a cage by himself. My heart broke in half for Edgar, and I remember crying far after the credits rolled.

He was so vulnerable, and there was something about him – his timidness, perhaps – that deeply resonated with me. My parents were baffled by my inability to be consoled about Edgar, and eventually, got me a stuffed animal mole I could carry around everywhere.

A Child Discovers the Power of Therapy

Starting at age 10, I was diagnosed with trichotillomania (the uncontrollable impulse to pull one’s hair out, usually for self-soothing purposes). I’m sure my empathy and difficulty regulating these “floods” of empathy in my system played a big role in why I sought self-soothing through hair-pulling.

But here is where my empathy became a gift: Because of my trichotillomania, I met a therapist for the first time.

I thought my goal was to work on managing my hair-pulling; my therapist quickly guided me to the realization that my pulling was a symptom, not the root issue.

It wasn’t until I dealt with other aspects of my mental health and my life more broadly – addressing bullying, coping with my parents’ looming divorce, and so much more – that I began to get a handle on my hair-pulling (and my ability to name and interact with my empathy).

These early experiences in therapy taught me that we as humans are multifaceted and our problems are complex – but fixable.

From “Raised by Therapists” to Becoming One

I often joke that I was “raised by therapists” because I decided to continue therapy through my teen years into adulthood. I tried on many “hats” when I was assessing my interests and career options. Painstakingly, I struck each career choice off my list: anthropologist, writer, philosopher…even physicist (for one short semester).

When I assessed these careers with my therapist at the time, an insight struck us like lightning. All of my interests circled around the human condition – why we are here, why we suffer, where we came from. My therapist said: “You know, you might like being a therapist. You explore all of these questions with every client, and every answer is different.”

Since I was “raised by therapists,” it was natural to me to become what had been modeled to me – a resource for self-discovery and a professional, collaborative problem solver.

I also wanted to pay forward the skills and profession that allowed me to become the person I am today. Once I switched my major to psychology in undergrad, I knew it was my professional purpose to pass along the benefits of therapy to future generations of clients.

Life’s Plot Twists: Working with Children and Families

In my early years as a clinician, I imagined I might work in addictions or help survivors of domestic violence. I did both, but life threw me another curveball when I was hired after graduating from The Chicago School of Professional Psychology to work at a private practice that specialized in treating children and families.

I worked with children and families of all backgrounds, problems, and circumstances. My most challenging case involved a family in the process of a contentious divorce. Their dynamic was so similar to my childhood that I was actively triggered in most sessions. I leaned into my supervisor, my therapist, and my support system and stuck it out.

After years of work with this family, I realized that my strong reactions – especially that pesky thing we call empathy – were sharpening into my best tools as a therapist.

I had to learn how to place effective boundaries around my empathy, and despite my strong reactions – and admittedly, at times, a desire to throw in the towel – to children of divorce in my early career, I look back with pride knowing I was able to consistently show up, make mistakes, repair said mistakes with authenticity, and face the pain of so many families and children time and time again.

I have been so fortunate to have clients follow me through phases of my career and experiments with other forms of therapy – including Equine Assisted Mental Health.

I discovered that regardless of the style of therapy, it was my authentic relationship with clients that gave them the safety net they needed to practice scaling larger “mountains” in their lives.

From Mountain-Maker to Mountain Guide

Every time I thought I finally conquered my “tallest mountain,” I discovered an even taller mountain on the horizon.

This pattern of reaching a peak only to find an even higher peak ahead is mirrored in my attempts to understand who I wanted to be professionally and personally. And because I have experienced so many humbling moments where that next mountain comes into view, I have integrated a forgiving and curious mindset when it comes to how people evolve and change.

I find the process of self-discovery to be beautiful, and it never ceases to amaze me how different everyone’s paths, perspectives, and purposes are. Like a sherpa that guides someone up a mountain, I have learned to prepare in advance, anticipate the unexpected, and to keep a keen eye on what lies ahead and behind us.

Every journey up that mountain will be different. It is my job to make sure my clients are safe on that journey, and to help them marvel at the wonders of their own minds, hearts, and experiences as they climb far beyond their wildest expectations.

About the Author: